OUTDOORS

OUTDOORS; When the Weather Says No, Florida's Ladyfish Still Say Yes

By Peter Kaminsky

Published: March 21, 1993

TEQUESTA, Fla.—
When the wind is up and the temperature is down, when the water is too high in the Everglades, when heavy rains turn off the snook and redfish in the estuaries, the angler who visits Florida can still have a productive day fishing for ladyfish. Often passed over by the flats fishermen, out for the more glamorous bonefish and permit, the ladyfish is a satisfying and challenging fighter.

Our guide, Steve Anderson, came highly recommended. Anderson had spent years on the famous bonefish grounds of the Bahamas. Now he sticks closer to home and the waters of Hobe Sound, and in particular the grass flats that run along its western shore. At one time, many of the estuaries from Biscayne Bay to Palm Beach held similar flats that abounded in snook and redfish, but dredging, channelization and the building of sea walls has removed most of this abundant habitat from the coastal waters of southern Florida.

We met at first light. Anderson launched his shallow-draft flats boat and, in a matter of minutes, we were fishing. The dawn wind had not yet risen. The surface of the water was glassed over. Mullet leaped everywhere. Ducks dived. Herons waded the shore. An anhinga cruised with only its neck sticking out of the water, looking like a poised viper (no wonder it is called the snake bird). Two osprey sat on their roosts. A pair of manatee poked their bulky snouts above the water as they glided in the shallows.

Steve suggested that we try for snook before the sun rose too high. The shore had been productive before the heavy rains of late January brought an infusion of fresh water that had put the snook off their feed. I cast a popping bug under the mangroves. My dad worked an amber jelly grub. But the snook were unimpressed. Further out, on the edge of the channel, ladyfish were feeding on the surface. We eased up on them. I cast my bug and gave it a slurping pop. A fish hit and sounded.

However, the fish didn't take to the air as ladyfish do.

"Could be a nice snook," Steve said. But it did not shake its head nor did it thump in the manner of a snook.

It turned out to be a 6-pound bluefish, a small population of which can be found in Florida estuaries as they make their way to the depths of the tropical ocean for the winter. We boated it and tossed it in the live-well. Dinner was accounted for with the first fish of the day.

Now, Steve counseled fishing deep. I switched to an intermediate line with a chartreuse streamer (the same Klauser's that produces so well in New York Harbor). The weight in its beaded eyes would allow for a jigging retrieve. One strips in the fly with long, aggressive strips, letting the fly drop before repeating the motion.

As promised, the ladyfish struck powerfully. I set the hook immediately. The fish took to the air in a series of fine jumps. Then he turned and ran toward the boat. I had to strip as fast as I could to keep pressure on the fish. When it came near to the boat it bent the rod and fought furiously, circling us. I followed its lead, raising my rod over my father's and then over the motor as the fish completed a circuit of our craft. When it stopped taking line, I held my rod back, then quickly released the pressure so that the newly slackened slack line just flopped into my hand. I grabbed the leader, lifted the fish and unhooked it. It went 3 pounds.

A ladyfish of 3 pounds is not very much in the saltwater. However, if you think in freshwater terms, a trout of 3 pounds is a once-in-a-lifetime fish on most Eastern trout streams. When you add to this the more vigorous fight of saltwater fish, I sometimes question the troutophile allegiances of East Coast fly fishermen. For the most part, there are more, bigger and stronger fish in the salt -- which may explain the recent explosion of interest in saltwater flyfishing.

We proceeded through the inlet to the open ocean. Bait fish jumped everywhere, but no blues. We retraced our course upstream. The wind rose. As Steve advised, I kept my back cast low and flung it high on the forward stroke. The stiff wind did the rest of the work carrying the fly 60 or 70 feet. The ladyfish were more aggressive than they had been in the morning stillness. I caught fish. My father caught fish. Steve caught fish. We stopped when we felt we had caught enough. That evening we joined our wives for grilled eggplant and peppers with fresh bluefish and cold white wine.